


Always Controlled

by LucindaRemyJohnson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucindaRemyJohnson/pseuds/LucindaRemyJohnson
Summary: "He took all control from her, and she couldn't do anything but regret it in the morning when she woke up to an empty bed yet again." All human, Dramione





	Always Controlled

**Author's Note:**

> This work is also posted to my FF account.

Hermione sat at her easel, painting the sunset view from the balcony window of her apartment.

Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands falling out to frame her face, and paint splattered her jeans and fingers - there was even a streak of green along her cheek.

Soft music was coming from the radio in the living room, and she was losing herself in her work, her passion. Her entire apartment was covered with paintings she'd done herself and some from other artists - some of the walls were panted on, like murals of sorts.

It was definitely the apartment of an artist.

Once she finished the painting she left it on the easel to dry, and walked into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

She leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes, her thoughts wandering yet again to a certain blonde haired, silver eyed man.

The strange thing was, he showed up at random times, completely turning her life upside down, only to be gone the next morning, shrouded in just as much confusion as when he'd first arrived.

She didn't know why she continued to indulge in her secret little pleasure - but she did. Time and time again, even though every time she'd swear it would be the last time. She would promise herself that it wouldn't happen again, that she wouldn't let him into her life for yet another night - but it never worked out.

He always showed up when she needed him most, and it was just too easy to fall into old habits with him.

She shoved all those thoughts away, and poured herself another glass of champagne, taking it and the bottle with her into the living room.

She sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV, mindlessly surfing through channels for a while before it started to rain.

Her eyes widened, she hated storms. With a groan she stood up and ran to close the windows, swaying slightly from the alcohol.

She sat back down on the couch, not bothering with the glass this time, just drinking straight from the bottle. Never in her twenty two years of living had she liked storms, and for as long as she could remember she would do anything to try to force her mind off it.

When she was younger she would sleep with her parents, and when she got older she'd stay up on the phone all night with her best friend, or her boyfriend.

When she'd gotten her own apartment she'd opted on drinking to help alleviate her nervousness, but lately it hadn't been working as well as it used to.

She took a giant swig from the bottle and almost choked when a giant clap of thunder shook her apartment building.

She screwed her eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing, and failing miserably. All she wanted was for the storm to stop.

A flash of lighting lit up her dim apartment, quickly followed by a clap of thunder that made her scream.

She knew that it was an irrational fear. She was inside, she was safe - but somehow that didn't help - she was still terrified.

When she thought it couldn't get any worse, the power cut off, and she was left, basically, in the dark.

She cursed for not thinking to grab a flashlight or a candle beforehand, as she stumbled through her dark apartment searching for where she'd put her flashlight.

A few moments later there was a knock on her door, and she cursed when she hit her knee against the glass coffee table on the way to the front door.

She attempted to look through the peep-hole in the door, but it was nearly pitch black in the hallway, so she called out instead.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Hermione."

Her eyes widened and she paused for a moment before opening the door.

When she did Draco was standing there, his hair wet, but a smile on his face. For a moment neither of them said anything, but then she stepped aside, allowing him to walk in.

Every time she saw him she had a million questions running through her head, none of which she would ever actually ask.

Mainly, what was his phone number?

But none of them really mattered. Their relationship wasn't exactly about seeing one another outside of her apartment. They'd never gone anywhere together - aside from a few walks around the park downtown - but that was just how it was with them - and she dealt with it. And it wasn't like she knew nothing about him - she knew plenty, actually.

Like the fact that he worked in his father's business, he was on only child, and he liked listening to old school rock music.

Yes, Hermione knew plenty about Draco, just not about the things she wanted to know about.

He looked around at the paintings on her walls and said, "Looks like you've been busy. Are there any down at the gallery?"

Hermione nodded, "Yeah,"

"Have you sold any lately?"

She nodded, "Yeah, quite a few actually."

Thunder shook the apartment again, and she couldn't contain the noise of surprise that escaped her.

Draco studied her carefully before walking over to her and trailing a hand down her cheek.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Why are you here?"

"I know you're scared of storms."

She looked up at him, and studied his silver colored eyes carefully. She would have continued, but another boom of thunder made her jump, and she moved away from him.

"Since when did you care about that?"

"You know I care about you." he said, following her.

"Do you? It's hard to tell."

She picked up the bottle of champagne and took another swig, sitting down on the couch.

"How did you even know about that?"

He came and sat down next to her, "You told me. We were laying in bed when it started storming. You told me to distract you."

Hermione nodded, remembering the memory now, but she didn't say anything else.

She was tired. Tired of him, tired of herself for falling for him time and time again - tired of the games. He made her feel out of control, because he always showed up _knowing_ that she wouldn't be able to say no to him. He knew that he had some type of hold on her, and there was nothing she could do about it. He took all control from her, and she couldn't do anything but regret it in the morning when she woke up to an empty bed yet again.

At times she wished that she would have the control in their relationship. That she could so easily stay away from him, and stop thinking about him as easily as he stopped thinking about her - but that wasn't their way.

"Is that why you're here then, to distract me?" she asked, not looking at him.

He moved closer to her, trailing his thumb over the green paint on her cheek and said, "I'm here for whatever you need me to be here for."

"Until tomorrow morning right? You're always gone by then."

Her words had become slower, alcohol dulling her senses, allowing her to speak more freely.

He didn't respond to her comment, instead taking the bottle from her and setting it on the table.

"Hermione -"

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Whatever you want to say, just don't."

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the next flash of lightning, and he sighed, moving over to her.

"Just let me distract you."

She knew it was a bad idea, but something about the way he was looking at her was making it impossible to say no, to tell him to leave.

"Okay,"

He smirked, knowing he'd won their little game yet again, and leaned forward to kiss her. She tasted of champagne and strawberries and he loved that about her.

She slid her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, loving the feel of his warm lips pressed against hers.

He pulled back slightly, "Bedroom?" She hated having sex on the couch, and they'd been doing this little dance long enough for him to know that.

She nodded, "Yeah," and let him take her hand and lead her into her bedroom.

She wasn't the least bit focused on the storm outside, more so focused on his warm hands as they pulled her tank top over her head.

He kissed her neck, nipping and biting all the places he knew would bring a noise from her - a sharp intake of breath, a gasp of pleasure - he controlled it all, and she knew it, just like he did.

She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, his shirt following quickly after it, and she was finally touching bare skin.

His chest was perfect, as if it had been sculpted from marble, and it was soft and smooth to the touch - and boy did she touch. She ran her hands up and down, her nails digging in slightly, causing him to groan against her neck.

She could just as easily get a reaction from him as he could from her.

He reached around her back and undid the clasp of her bra, letting it slide down to the floor. He pulled her to himself, their bare chests pressed together, and he kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth and hers exploring his.

He slowly backed her up towards the bed, until her knees bumped against it and she fell back. He climbed on top of her, his hands seemingly everywhere.

She closed her eyes as he slid off her jeans and began trailing kisses down her neck and to her chest, laving one breast and then the other with his skilled mouth.

After a while he continued down, placing feather light kisses down her stomach until he reached her panties. He looked up at her, caught her gaze, and ever so slowly slid them from her legs.

He tossed them over his shoulder onto the ground and spread her legs, kissing from her knee to the inside of her thigh as he settled between them.

By this point she was squirming above him, desperate for him to touch her.

He chuckled and looked up at her from underneath his long lashes, "Tell me what you want me to do, Hermione."

She groaned at how sexy he sounded - and looked - between her legs, "God, whatever you want."

He shook his head, "Tell me,"

"Touch me,"

"How?" he asked with a smirk, "Like this?"

He slid his thumb over her clit, causing her hips to buck up and a groan to pass her parted lips. He continued for a few seconds, just watching her, before he stopped.

"Or maybe like this?"

He moved his middle finger down, trailing across her tight opening, before slowly sliding his finger inside her.

She gasped, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how tight she was. He couldn't wait to be inside her.

He slid his finger in and out of her at the same maddeningly slow pace, before he asked, "Or maybe this?" He curved his finger up, suddenly rubbing against the perfect spot inside her, and causing her to moan.

He was fascinated by her in every possible way. Her curly brown hair had come out of its bun and was now sprawled out around her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were swollen and pink. Her breathing was fast - and all of it was because of him.

"Maybe you'd like it better if I went faster?" he asked, smirking up at her.

She gasped again and said, "Oh god, no - I can't."

"I think you can." he said, moving his fingers a bit faster.

"Oh god," she said, her hands tangling in the sheets.

He sped up and added a second finger, and she squeezed her eyes closed, feeling herself getting closer and closer to her release.

Just as she was about to come, he removed his fingers, chuckling at her groan of frustration.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

She looked down at him, her eyes locking on his, and said, "I want you to taste me."

His eyes widened, surprised that she'd said that - but incredibly turned on nonetheless.

He leaned down, and while keeping eye contact with her, slowly began to lick her clit.

She moaned and grabbed at the blankets, trying to find something to do with her hands. Draco noticed this, and moved one hand from her waist and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

The gesture was intimate, and not entirely lost on her, but for some reason it felt natural.

She couldn't keep eye contact with him any longer, her eyes falling closed as her hips began to rise off the bed on their own accord.

A few skilled strokes of his tongue later, and she was coming undone, squeezing his hand as he continued to move his tongue over her folds, tasting her, until she'd stopped shaking.

He kissed his way back up to her lips, kissing her softly, his fingers still locked with hers.

Her skin was flushed and her chest rose and fell quickly, but she had a smile on her face, and he loved it. He loved that he'd done that.

"You're beautiful." he said - like he always said when he was with her like this.

She simply pushed his shoulders, rolling him onto his back, and she straddled him, before kissing him again, her tongue sliding into his mouth effortlessly.

His hands slid up and down her sides, before moving down to grab her ass and pull her forward against his throbbing erection.

She smirked and moved off him, pulling his jeans and boxers down, before moving between his legs.

He kept his eyes on her, watching as she kissed his taut stomach, and moved down, her lips barely grazing the sensitive tip of his dick.

She took him into her hand, pumping up and down slowly. He groaned, keeping his eyes on her even when she took him into her sinfully sweet mouth.

She looked up at him, her lips wrapped around his throbbing dick, and he tangled his hand in her curly mane of hair.

He wanted to keep watching her, because the sight was utterly erotic, but he couldn't manage it. He dropped his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, his hips bucking up into her mouth.

After a few minutes he pulled her up, flipping them over, and crushing his lips against hers.

"I want you." she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Fast or slow?" he asked, moving between her legs.

"Slow," she said softly, "Go slow."

He nodded, and slid into her.

They both sighed at the feeling, and he began his slow and steady pace, stroking her in the most perfect way imaginable.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and he trailed the softest of kisses across her collarbone and up her neck until he reached her lips.

"Draco," she said softly, her hands moving up his back.

He groaned at his name falling from her lips, and kissed her again.

The pressure in her stomach was building slowly, their bodies moving together like waves in the ocean, guiding one another to their peak.

"Oh, Draco," she said, her breath catching as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. She scratched her nails down his back, but he didn't seem to notice, completely consumed by her.

All of a sudden her walls started to flutter and she pulled him closer, biting into the corded muscles of his shoulder as she came.

He continued moving in and out of her for as long as he could, and then came with a groan of her name, shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over him.

He rested his forehead against her collarbone, and her hands trailed up and down his back, as they tried to catch their breath.

He slowly pulled out of her, and rolled over so he was lying beside her.

He turned his head and looked at her, watching as her chest rose and fell. Something had been different this time. It hadn't be rushed, it hadn't been fast and hard like it usually was.

By now the storm had stopped, and the only noise was their labored breathing.

She assumed that he would be gone soon, and if not now, then before she woke up, so she was surprised when he pulled her over to him and moved the blankets up around them.

"What are you -"

"Shh," he said softly, "It's alright. Just sleep."

"When am I going to see you again?"

He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Rest, it's fine."

She closed her eyes with a sigh, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up the next morning he was gone, as she'd expected. With a sigh she sat up in bed and grabbed her shirt from the floor, putting it on and sliding into a pair of underwear before walking into the kitchen.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and then glanced over at the painting she'd done last night.

It was dry by now, so she moved it off the easel and grabbed a hammer and nail, hanging it up on the wall by the balcony door.

She was about to walk into the bathroom when she noticed a piece of paper on the coffee table in the living room, so she walked over and picked it up.

_525-8765_

_In case you ever want me to wait out a storm with you again, or you know, go to dinner._

_\- Draco_

She smiled and folded the piece of paper and tacked it to the bulletin board she had on the living room wall, before walking into the bathroom to take a shower.

She didn't know if she was going to call him or not, but whatever she decided to do would be her choice, and she knew that he'd done that on purpose.

He was done taking the choices away from her - and for some reason she knew that if she didn't call him, it would be over.

He wanted her to call, and maybe, just maybe, she would.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews make my day.


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